$6 Million: A Price Worth Paying for the Greatest Legacy in Boxing

Eight months have passed since the notorious "Thrilla in Manila" - October 1, 1975 greeted boxing fans with the climax to one of the sport's greatest and most bitter rivalries, as ‘Smokin’’ Joe Frazier finds himself cradled by the referee and Muhammad Ali returns to his corner with celebratory arms aloft. At the Araneta Colisuem in Quezon City, Philippines, fourteen brutal rounds have passed before Eddie Futch intervenes, though Frazier desperately implores the official to allow him to continue.

Many present on that historic night vow to hearing Frazier repeatedly cry “I want him boss,” though Futch reassures ‘Smokin’’ Joe that “no one will forget what you [Frazier] did here today”. To this day, Ali maintains it was the closest he ever came to death.

“I felt like quittin’ at the end of the fourteenth,” Ali conceded shortly after the fight. “Well, not like quittin’, but like I didn’t want to go no more.”

14 rounds of unremitting violence leaves Frazier a dilapidated heap, the product of his own unyielding willpower and determination, though he would leave with his head held high that night, metaphorically even if unable to do so physically.

Whilst many objectors to such a primitive bloodsport would have fervently objected to the final moments of ferocious punishment dealt out by Ali, his defenseless foe trapped within a bloodthirsty crosshair for much of the thirteenth, the nobility of such a spectacle cannot be denied. The willingness of both men to push physical and psychological barriers in the name of honour, of greatness and of entertainment is something often deemed largely absent from boxing in the modern day.

This image of Ali -  “the people’s champion”, the man who responded to death threats by claiming he was “too fast to be hit by a bullet”, his lucidly sharp tongue matched only by his sharp reflexes – is the image that resonates most with those who recall his career.

The rise and rise of boxing’s most charismatic and inspiring figure, however, still finds itself smeared by moments of bitter disappointment, of political turbulence and of ongoing physical decay. Whilst his association with the Nation of Islam and position as a conscientious objector divided opinion, no man rejoiced in the image of Ali, his lightening reflexes gone, absorbing hundreds of punches from Larry Holmes in 1980. A year later, Ali entered the final bout of his career at 236.25 lbs, inflated and fighting in opposition to all reason, exiting the ring in a whimpering 10-round loss to Trevor Berbick. “The Pyramids of Egypt are crumbling,” Ali lamented. His legacy had been blemished if not compromised, although the search for a blip in Ali’s astonishing career can be found six years prior.

Eight months after the “Thrilla in Manila”, Ali insists that he would only fight for another year before hanging up his gloves permanently. At the height of his fame and his greatness, Ali’s decision to reverse this choice and continue fighting a full five years beyond that is perhaps one of the greatest travesties of all. Another, was his financially-driven decision to take part in a prototype for mixed martial arts; a bout in which the great Muhammad Ali would take on obscure Japanese professional wrestler and martial artist Antonio Inoki.

Specific rules had been designed to level the playing field in a bout that would settle the title of “toughest man on the planet”; Inoki would be gloveless, whilst Ali’s would be four ounces. Kneeing, kicking and striking below the belt were prohibited, whilst Ali could escape any grapple or submission by successfully reaching for the ropes. The spectacle faced obvious accusations of being simulated; why else would Ali risk his physical condition and legendary status for a seemingly pointless contest? Ali, in typically articulate terms, clarified;

“Six million dollars,” Ali muttered, at a press conference held in his hotel bedroom after a unanimous decision victory over Jimmy Young. “That’s why.”

35 years have passed since the fight took place, and the intricate details of how the fight exactly came about are still yet to be untangled. Ali initiated, asking president of the Japanese Amateur Wrestling Association in his typically bombastic and provocative manner: “Isn’t there any Oriental fighter who will challenge me?”

Swiftly leapt upon by the Japanese media, Ali’s comments triggered a series of offers, including a guaranteed $6 million from backers of Inoki. By March, the fight had been arranged; Ali vs. Inoki, June 26 1976, Budokan, Japan.

The undercard would feature Chuck Wepner – inspiration for the Rocky films – take on Andre the Giant in their own simulated debacle. The seemingly logical step from high-profile boxing bout to lucrative showpiece – a sidestep nonetheless – had been trodden before. Years earlier, Jack Dempsey had fallen into financial disarray, emerging from his timely boxing retirement to take on wrestler Clarence ‘Cowboy’ Luttrell. Far beyond his best days but forced to sing for his supper, Dempsey - now dubbed ‘the Aging Bull’ - initiated a sad and mercifully short ‘comeback’.

Dempsey – the former boxing hero of sport’s Golden Age, the first man to draw a million-dollar gate, the fighter who attracted 120,757 fans to the Sesquicentennial Stadium in Philadelphia for his first bout with Gene Tunney – untidily sauntered to his corner, his weight ballooned to 205lbs, greeted by a corner stool that was an empty beer crate.

The writing seemed to be on the wall for Ali; this was a spectacle destined to fail, deemed to be a circus, yet sure to commercially thrive, and seemingly something that could only damage the legacy he was in the midst of building.

In his Letters in the Joseph R. Svinth collection, Donn F. Draeger suggested that Inoki “can’t wrestle, but looked fierce and could be taught to roll around”, suggesting his “recent ‘defeat’ of [former Olympic judo campion] Willem Ruska was a farce.”

According to Draeger, “the whole thing with Ali [was] a promotion gimmick,” in which Ali “can’t be allowed to lose.” Ali’s doctor for the fight, Ferdie Pacheco, condemned the bout as a “Bob Arum thought-up scam that was going to be ‘ha-ha ho-ho… It’s going to be orchestrated, it’s going to be a lot of fun and it’s just a joke.’” The fight certainly had it’s critics, and rightly so, as Pacheco soon realised that “when we got over there, we found out no-one was laughing.”

The bout itself proved to be a bizarre burlesque; the convoluted rulebook drawn up hastily to accommodate for the different disciplines facilitated what proved to be a fifteen round farce. The Japanese representatives revealed that when the Ali camp finally arrived at the realization the fight may not be staged, they “basically demanded a new set of rules which basically stopped Inoki from doing much.” Suspiciously, entwined in the intricate legal stipulations was an agreement that “no detailed version of the rules be made public before the fight,” and the depth of the legal wrangling began to hit home.

A multitude of different staged finales were proposed; Ali presumed he would be the victor, as did Inoki, whilst journalist Jim Murphy claimed the fight would conclude with Ali accidentally striking the referee. Each proposed finish would prove more perverse than the last; the only certainty seemed to be that Ali, the ‘people’s champion’, would not be dethroned for any financial incentive. Rumours began to circulate, suggesting Ali’s entourage understood every stipulation of the contract, and that if they were to sign for a guaranteed $6 million, they would ensure Ali lost. Ali refused to oblige.

The concerned parties now had a fixed bout scheduled, with neither participant willing to take a dive. As the date approached, neither camp understood which fighter would be the winner, whilst the public remained unaware that such negotiations regarding a predetermined winner were even taking place.

As the first bell rang out in the on June 26, 1976, the precise degree of disarray the negotiations had reached manifested in a bizarre spectacle. Inoki charged across the ring towards Ali and slid onto his back, adopting a defensive wrestling position and goading his opponent to enter into a grapple. Ali refused, standing upright and keeping enough distance between himself Inoki to avoid any danger of a meaningful exchange. Ali threw six punches over fifteen rounds; Inoki managed a single grapple, during which the referee intervened as the towering wrestler sat atop Ali, his buttocks pressed against the head of the ‘world’s greatest’, in a grotesquely slapstick moment undeserving of Ali’s stature and renown. The bout ended in a draw; 3-3. Theoretically, neither fighter could been deemed a failure; in truth, they both were.

“How could I knock him down when he was down already?” Ali understandably complained, triggering Inoki’s insistence that he had been “handicapped by the rules that said no tackling, no karate chops, no punching when on the mat.” The fight had descended into farce before the first bell rang, but even the contractual bickering found itself upstaged by what Donn Draeger labeled a “lousy performance”.

Both the performance and the complaints of it’s participants were eventually upstaged by the jeers of a enraged crowd, finally awaking to the reality that they had been tricked into the Budokan under the pretence of a fight taking place. At least the two combatants, and their considerable entourages, could take solace in the financial incentives of the spectacle.

Money aside, Ali suffered two blood clots in his leg; a result of the repeated kicks he endured from Inoki’s sprawling limbs, and Pacheco maintains to this day that ‘the Greatest’ was never the same again. In the subsequent five years until his retirement, Ali never knocked out another opponent, and his doctor’s words – that often fell on deaf ears – seem to maintain at least a shred of truth.

For all of the damage endured as a result of his fight with Inoki; the accusations of deception, the financial irregularities and the vacant trash-talking that surrounded such a circus, it’s most poignant element was how utterly forgettable it proved. The very fact that it has drifted into obscurity, a tale only recalled in folklore and legend, can be largely attributed to a populous that choose not to remember. The image of Muhhamad Ali permanently etched upon the retina of a gazing public eye is one of unanimous celebration, an impression of legend and an icon of greatness. Ali’s opponent in the 1974 “Rumble in the Jungle”, George Foreman, paid tribute to “the Greatest” on his 70th birthday;

“The life he lived outside of the ring, what he had to say, the bravery he had, made him what he was; a prophet, a hero, a revolutionary – much more than a boxer.”

To watch a recording of Muhammad Ali vs. Antonio Inoki, at the Budokan, Tokyo on June 26, 1976, watch the video below;

To celebrate "the Greatest's" 70th birthday, look out for tomorrow's blog, concerning Sportsvibe's Top 10 Heavyweight's of all time, followed by our definitive list of the Top 10 Sporting Stars of the last 100 years.